


Grieving

by FiddleDeStixx



Category: Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 08:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiddleDeStixx/pseuds/FiddleDeStixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He says was the best thing that ever happened to him in his years, she says he's the only one she'll ever love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grieving

He watched Rose in sleeping form from the corner of her bedroom door before closing it and headed silently down the hall.

He was heading to his bedroom to sleep himself, his mind trying to ease the grief out that was still swallowing him after days.

He walked past a few doors before stopping at one with a straw hat on it.

He hesitated going into the room at first, thinking it be better if he went to bed, try to sleep and think better of everything in the morning, but his new body didn't obey him so.

His hand had twisted the crystal knob of the door and he had stepped into the room before his mind caught up with him.

He felt tears sting his eyes as he looked around the small room, dripping down his face into the fluffy carpet under his bare feet.

He walked on the soft floor, looking around the room, remembering the countless times he had been in there.

He sat down on the blue covered bed, rubbing the silk material of the sheets between his fingers as he took in the rough emerald green walls, the walk-in wardrobe on the right, everything around the room that held some piece of her in it.

He looked over at the wall her desk was up against, allowing a sad smile to creep on his face when he saw all the photos and art on the wall cavity above.

All the photos were of a man, always different, always changing.

They were of that man with different people, people he'd met and people he'd lost.

He looked over the photos before stopping at one.

It was the last one on the end of it all, because he had noticed all the framed photos were in order.

It was of a man, the same man in all the photos, but a different face.

This man's face was wrinkled to look like he was in his late 30's to early 40's, one of the youngest faces that man ever had.

He was wearing a green t-shirt, mostly covered over with a huge leather jacket, black with big buttons.  
He didn't have much hair and he had a big wart on his face, but you couldn't really see it because his beaming smile blocked it from his face.

One of the man's massive arms was swung around a women.

 

Rose.

 

She looked as beautiful as ever, her short blond hair shined along with her smile and brown eyes, contrasting with her bold statement of her British flag shirt.

His other arm was wound around a tall man, a little taller than he was.

He was wearing an World War II army coat, complete with matching hat.

He looked like a ridiculous oaf in the photo, but his smile was a wide as his.

A pair of smaller arms were wrapped around the waist of the leather-clad man, but he didn't seem to mind.

He willed himself not to look at the picture anymore, but he saw the face attached to those little arms and couldn't stop himself tearing up and spilling over again.

It was a little girl about thirteen, with a face like an angel.

Beautiful dark chocolate brown crimped hair framing mocha eyes, button nose, shell-pink lips and pearly-white teeth.

She was wearing the same outfit as the man, except the shirt was sleeveless and a lighter green and instead of a jacket , it was a leather vest.

The man quickly tore his eyes away from the photo, closing them, trying to will away the water, but the image still stayed fresh in his mind, making it impossible.

Finally, it overwhelmed him so much, he slid off the bed and landed on the floor.

But he didn't care one bit at all because he was to busy grieving to notice.

 

She was gone.

 

She had been taken.

 

And she wasn't coming back.

 

And that fact alone broke both his two hearts.

 

"I never got to tell you..." He whispered to the night sky as tears welled up again.

"I love you, my beautiful Time Angel"


	2. Undone

She was alone.

So utterly alone.

She shifted and put her hands in the pockets of her new jacket, which still felt werid under her fingertips.

She puzzled as to why this was so, because she had been wearing said jacket for over a week.

Then she remembered.

It wasn't his duplicate jacket she was digging into for warmth, it was Jack's.

She resisted the urge to cry, scream, make her voice as loud as possible so he could hear her, find her and help her regain her sanctity.

But she knew that wouldn't help her.

It would just lead them to her whereabouts faster.

If that happened, she would end up back underground in Torchwood 3, with a full banter/lecture for the Captain himself on her "sneaking out of The HUB" thing.

Then, just as she had learnt over the week, she would just sigh, get up and walk away from Jack's worried piercing blue eyes when he finished.

This was at least the fifth time they weren't watching, which means it was the fifth time she had escaped them again with her new powers.

"If you can call them that." She thought to herself bitterly.

She tried to shut out the memories of what lead her to be even a part of Torchwood in the first place, but they came full force into her mind, making her lose control of her tears, start to shake with fear and her breathing laboured.

The screaming. The torture. The experiments. Her stellar and obvious entrance. Springing out the BBQ sauce and saving Jack's ass for the third time in a row. Discovering her new powers. It was all rushing around in her head like the waves that were on the wharf below her.

She found herself looking over the water on her hands and knees at the reflection it presented.

She saw herself staring at a young, scared girl with straight bangs of brown hair feathered out on the sides of her face.

Her eyes was red-rimmed and her rosy cheeks had tears she dripping down them into the sea.

Her mocha coloured eyes reflected pain, sorrow and a lot of grief.

She jerked herself away from the water, trying to run from the refection in the water, but found herself curled up in a fetal position on the edge of the wharf, sobbing and crying like the monster she thought she was.

She didn't remember crying herself to sleep, but she woke up in her bed at Torchwood, where in full view of the window was the night sky.

She shut her eyes and whispered something as the tears flowed freely again.

"When are you coming back my love? I need you..."

She opened up her tearing eyes and gazed up at the stars.

"I love you Theta, wherever you are..."


End file.
